


The Side-Effects of Resurrection

by arabellavidal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Canon Divergence maybe?, Could just be Cousin-Incest, Episode 6x03/04, F/M, Half-Sibling Incest, Masturbation, Sorry Not Sorry, but they don't know, maybe not?, show-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 05:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7347268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabellavidal/pseuds/arabellavidal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Couldn't help answering the prompt on valar-morekinks round 4: Jon/Sansa, show verse. Jon comes back from the dead feeling horny. Really, really horny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Side-Effects of Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed. Not very good but couldn't really stop the bunny from wiggling out.

"What did you see?" Melisandre asked eagerly, kneeling at his feet.  
Jon gaped at her, thankful for the cloak hiding his stiffened member.  
"Nothing," he answered desperately, extremely embarrassed and confused. "I saw nothing."  
When Davos all but threw her out of the room, he felt a bit relieved not to be confronted by her cleavage.  
Other thoughts began to invade his mind: Had he been lying here completely bare? The thought of people gawping at his dead, naked body filled him with extreme discomfort. Had he actually died? The stabbing certainly felt real. And why in hells was he so horny? Was this a resurrection side-effect?  
All through the day, as he greeted friends, allies and brothers, he tried to make sure his tunic covered his tented crotch and to not rub his privates against them during hugs in order to relieve the need to, well, rub.  
He finally managed to lock himself in the privy to attend to his hardened member. Tormund might change his opinion about his size if he could see...

Jon decided he couldn't stay at the Wall. He had been betrayed by his brothers. He was also aroused all the bloody time. It was exhausting and would cause great embarrassment and hilarity if found out.  
He was contemplating whether it would be better to move to Mole's Town or Lys (the pleasure houses were almost legendary) when he heard the horn...

It truly was Sansa. He hugged her hard and it was only when she nuzzled him that he remembered his arousal, which twitched. He quickly pulled away from her, flushed, and pulled his tunic down.

He was once again locked in the privy. His sister's innocent, happy gaze had done nothing to bring him down. Neither her resemblance to Lady Catelyn nor the fact that they shared blood was working. If anything, her beauty and her affectionate manner was making things worse. He was screwed.  
Hmmm. Maybe a trip to Mole's Town would be a good idea.  
On the other hand, everyone would know why he was going. and Tormund would likely tell Sansa.  
Yep. He was screwed...

"Jon?"  
"Hmm?"  
"What's wrong? Are you ill?"  
"No. Why?"  
"Well, you look like you're in pain and you're walking very stiffly. Is it the knife wounds?"  
"Er. No. I mean. Yes. It's the wounds."  
"Let me have a look. Haven't you had them treated? Let me see."  
Groan. "Sansa, no!"  
"Jon? Where are you going?! Oh, dear. The privy again. It must be because of the stomach wound."

"My lady Melisandre?"  
"Stiff, you say?"  
"Yes."  
"He keeps going to the privy?"  
"Yes. If you can bring him back from the dead, can't you heal him as well?"  
"..."  
"My lady?"  
"Back from the dead, yes. I must see what I can do to help him, Lady Sansa. The Lord of Light demands it. I'll go to him now."

As Sansa prepared for bed, Jon rushed in and locked the door behind him. His hair was untied and flying all over the place. His tunic was partly unbuttoned and he was holding his loosened breeches in one tight fist. He was wide-eyed and out of breath.  
"Jon? What's wrong? Has there been another attack?"  
His eyes fell on her, noticing the exposed hollow of her throat from having begun undressing. His gaze intensified and moved to her bosom which was heaving from his sudden appearance. Sansa felt a strange heaviness pooling at the pit of her stomach and her cheeks blushing when he did nothing but stare raptly at her.  
"My prince?" Melisandre's muffled voice came through the door and Jon startled away from the door and began looking around the room as if searching for a place to hide.  
"You must let me tou- heal you. The Lord of Light has granted me healing hands. It is the only way to stop your torment," she continued but now her voice seemed to be moving farther away. She obviously did not think Jon would be so indelicate as to hide in his sister's room in dishabille.  
Sansa looked worriedly at her half-brother. "Torment? Oh, Jon! Does it hurt so much?"  
Jon stared directly into her eyes with a decidedly tormented expression on his face. "Yes." His voice was low, gravelly and desperate. It made that feeling return to her middle.  
Suddenly she was breathless. "Why don't you let the lady Melisandre heal you?"  
He dropped his eyes in embarrassment. "Maybe I should. I'm sorry for having bothered you, my lady." He turned his back to her and began to tie the laces on his breeches, the fabric pulled tight against his bottom. Sansa stared in fascination. He seemed to be having some trouble, she realized after having ogled her half-brother's backside for longer than was decent.  
"Do you want some help?" slipped out of her mouth, unthinkingly. Jon became completely still. "Er. I mean, erm."  
She was wringing her hands in mortification, when he turned around and stood there despairingly. He was pulling the laces as taut as possible but unable to hide the way the fabric was tenting. "I've been like this quite a lot since I got back from the dead. But it's got worse since..." He ducked his dead.  
Sansa walked slowly towards him. "Since?"  
He looked back into her eyes. "I don't really want Melisandre to touch me."  
She stopped before him and boldly put her hands over his. "You mean, heal you."  
"Yes. Strictly medical." He gulped as she gently removed his hands from his breeches and slid one of hers into them. He moaned throatily and let his head fall against her shoulder in relief and surrender.

Several hours later.

"I think I'll be fine for now."  
"Mmmmm?"  
"You truly have magnificent healing powers."  
"I never knew that about myself. It's marvellous what we are capable of in times of need."  
"You don't mind if I stay here for the rest of the night?"  
"Of course not. I must be at hand if your condition returns. A healer must always be there for the one in her care."  
"I think I like being in your care."  
"Well, I do have to make up for how badly I treated you in Winterfell."  
"Yes, please."  
"Jon?"  
"Sansa."  
"I think you have need of my medical prowess again."  
"Sadly it seems to be a chronic condition."  
"Poor Jon. Let me kiss it all better."


End file.
